


Bed

by middlemarch



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: American Civil War, F/M, Marriage, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 03:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6783751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At daybreak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed

“Oh, Mary, come back to bed!” Jed called. She sat at her vanity, hands caught between braiding and unbraiding her night plait, her muslin night-dress pooling around her bare feet. The basin and pitcher sat on the chest of drawers beside her, the rose pattern grey in the early morning light. She yawned. They had gotten to bed late after a busy day at the hospital and a cold dinner, so late that Jed had not attempted more beyond a goodnight kiss and a warm hand on her hip. Now he still lay in their bed, propped up on his side and stretched a hand out to her. His eyes were soft and dark in the faint light of dawn and she saw his shoulders and bare chest, somehow less naked than when he walked around in his shirtsleeves and braces, collar undone. They had been married just a few months and many days, it still seemed like she must wake up and find herself cramped between two iron bedsteads on a ward, or neck half broken, upright on a wooden bench. 

“It’s early yet, and it wouldn’t hurt McBurney to actually get his clever hands bloody again, you know. Be generous, let Nurse Hastings revel in your tardiness,” he entreated her, and she felt a warm swell of love so mixed with desire she felt herself flush, ripe for him.

“Well, I suppose just a little while longer,” she replied, climbing back into the cool bed. He took her in his arms and shifted so he was over her, his mouth just far enough from hers for him to give the words as a kiss.

“I should think so, Mrs. Foster. You’ve made your bed, now you must lie in it,” he smiled and then she reached up to pull him down to her, the feel of him better than the sun which would rise and gild them both, the smooth plane of his back, the lush curve of her thigh, her half unravelled braid just barely sweeping the oak floorboards beside the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to the "bed" prompt. Just a little sweet something.


End file.
